


The Art of Making Up

by thejokeristhethief



Series: So This Is Home [11]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:52:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejokeristhethief/pseuds/thejokeristhethief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A midnight conversation lands Wash and North in the doghouse after York gets blamed for something he didn't do. But don't worry, Wash can fix this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Making Up

Wash sighs, glancing at the clock on the nightstand again. The LED display informs him that it is 1:47, 15 minutes from the last time he checked. Great, another sleepless night. He squirms slightly, attempting to find a more comfortable position, jostling a softly snoring York in the process. He curses his luck when York, ever the light sleeper, groans in protest as his eyes flutter open.

“Wash? What time is it?” York asks sleepily, scrubbing the back of the hand not tangled in North’s shirt across his eyes.

“Shh, it’s late. Go back to sleep.” Wash whispers, cuddling closer to North’s body heat. Their tallest lover is like a furnace at night. He waits until York’s eyelids drop closed and his breath evens out again before rolling over to trace patterns on the ceiling with his eyes. By now, he’s memorized every inconsistency and imperfection, finding patterns in the negative spaces between dimples and shadows.

“Stop thinking so hard. I can practically feel your brainwaves from here. I bet if you concentrated hard enough you could set something on fire.” York’s voice startles him violently, almost sending him rolling off the bed in an attempt to establish a defensive stance. York’s hand shoots out, grasping his wrist to pull him back towards the center of the bed. “Steady Wash. You’re safe here, remember?”

He takes a deep breath to calm his nerves before replying. He’s proud to note his voice doesn’t shake. “Yeah… Yeah, I know. You just startled me. I thought you’d gone back to sleep.”

“You know I can’t sleep if you’re awake. I worry about you. You never talk to us about what keeps you up at night...” The concern is apparent in York’s voice, and his hand slips down to lace their fingers together. North grunts softly in his sleep when York’s elbow digs into his stomach.

Wash rolls back onto his side, facing York across North’s vast chest. He leaves their fingers entangled as he meets York’s gaze. He squeezes tight as he begs off answering the unasked question. “Please York, I don’t want to talk about this. Not tonight. Not in the dark.”

York makes soothing sounds, rubbing his thumb across the back of Wash’s hand. He changes the subject, hiding every ounce of worry that was in his voice previously. “Did you know that there is a spot somewhere on this ceiling that looks like a Jackson Pollock painting?”

“Uhh… Who is Jackson Pollock?” Wash relaxes his grip on York’s hand at the change of subject.

“He’s a famous abstract painter. Lots of texture work. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him.” York’s voice slips into the cultured drawl he normally takes great pains to hide, the one that only comes out when he’s talking about something he learned in childhood.

“Careful York, you’re showing your privilege.” Wash grins at him to show he’s joking. “Isn’t abstract art that type of thing that 5 year old kids with a paintbrush can do?”

York makes an offended sound in the back of his throat. “You uncultured swine! No mere 5 year old could match Pollock. They’d have to be at least 6. And they’d need string dipped in paint. Although the last time Delta made spaghetti, he forgot to remove the noodles from the cupboard he stuck them to and it looked like a pretty decent replica.”

Wash bursts into laughter, releasing York’s hand to roll on his back. The momentum of this movement, coupled with his exhaustion leads to a lack of coordination and his hand flies up to smack North in the face. He’s positive the look of wide-eyed horror on York’s face is mirrored on his own as North shoots upright, swearing profusely.

“What. The. Fuck. Why does my nose hurt? Why are you idiots awake? Why am I awake?” North’s eyes scan the room as he questions them, voice gravelly from sleep. Once he has determined the lack of intruders, he zeros in on York. “Jesus Christ York, it’s 3 am. This is your fault somehow.”

There is a quick shuffle of blankets before York is yelping. North is glaring death at him. York holds his hands up in surrender, opening his mouth to protest. North beats him to it by unceremoniously dumping him on the floor.

“If you’d rather talk than sleep, that’s fine. Go do it on the couch.” North orders, no give in his voice. He reaches over to tug Wash back to his chest, settling back down to sleep. However, when York attempts to crawl back into the bed, North sits back up and shoots him the dirtiest look Wash has ever seen the man wear. York makes the noise of a wounded animal and shoots Wash a look of complete betrayal before slinking out of the room, muttering about injustice and North playing favorites.

Wash sighs, snuggling into North’s chest. He’s going to pay for this in the morning, but the warmth North is exuding is just too comfortable to leave. Besides, he’s not sure if he can free himself from the strong arms engulfing him. Matching North’s sigh of contentment, Wash drifts off to sleep.

* * *

 

When Wash wakes the next morning, he is alone in the bed, face buried in York’s pillow. The smell of pancakes, York’s favorite, permeates throughout the house. North’s apology for kicking him out of bed last night, Wash imagines. He strains his ears, hoping to hear whether York is awake yet or not. He’d like to be prepared for the dressing down that York is bound to give him now that there isn’t any danger of waking the dragon that is North. The rest of the house is silent, however. The strangeness of that is not lost on Wash, who is usually the last to wake.

Collecting his shirt from the floor, Wash pulls it on and heads for the kitchen. He pauses when he sees North, alone at the table. He is cradling a cup of coffee and looking completely miserable. York is nowhere to be seen. Assuming he must still be sleeping, Wash slips passed the obviously guilt ridden North and into the kitchen. Waking York up with a cup of coffee will probably help him achieve forgiveness faster. Reaching for a mug, Wash pauses when he notices the dirty plates on the counter. A frown creases his brow when he notices the remnants of a shattered mug in the sink. Not good. He immediately glances towards the front door, noting that York’s jacket and shoes are missing. Damn.

North enters the kitchen and places his cup down in the sink quietly with a sigh. “He’s mad. Apparently I play favorites, because I kicked him out of bed last night.”

“Yeah, uhh.. I was the one that hit you in the face last night. He tried to explain that to you, but your glare was pretty terrifying. I don’t blame him for being mad. Although the blame isn’t all yours. I probably should have done something to stop you. I thought he’d come back to bed after a few minutes though.”

“In my defense, I’ve been sleeping with York for so long I’m used to him moving around and flailing in his sleep. It isn’t the first time I’ve woken up because of a slap to the face.” North sighs again. “I feel pretty awful. And the pancakes didn’t even warm him up a bit. When have you ever seen York not smile at pancakes?”

Wash winces. North’s pancakes always cheer York up, no matter how miserable he feels. The fact that they didn’t even drag a smile from him proves that York isn’t going to forget this easily. “But hey, he ate them right? That’s something at least…”

North glances up hopefully. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Wash replies, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “And I have another idea of how to gain some forgiveness. The two of you should go on a date. How about you plan a big romantic date for the two of you tonight? I’ll hunt him down and dote on him this afternoon. He’s obviously feeling a little unloved. I know alone time spent with each of you would cheer me up if the roles were reversed.”

“That’s a good idea,” North sounds hesitant. “Are you sure though? I don’t want you to get lonely. And I know York wouldn’t want to leave you out either.”

“No, it’s OK. I’ve been meaning to get together with Connie anyway. And I’m going to spoil him today. As soon as I can find him, that is…” Wash grins at North, a plan already formulating in his head.

“I have a fairly good idea about where you can find him. When you’re ready, I’ll drop you off. Try to have him back between 6:30 and 7, OK?” North steals a kiss as Wash shuffles passed him towards the bedroom to get dressed for the day.

Wash hums his assent into the kiss before untangling himself. Entering the bedroom, he locates his pair of artfully shredded skinny jeans, York’s favorite. Yanking a random t-shirt out of the drawer, he pulls down a cardigan. Wash takes a quick shower before pulling on his clothes, noting how perfectly tight the shirt is across his chest and around his arms, and collecting his wallet and keys.

North is doing dishes in the kitchen when Wash enters. He wraps his arms around the other man, standing on his toes to plant a kiss on the back of his neck before disengaging to pull on his shoes. North’s sharp intake of breath and the way Wash feels his eyes following him just confirms his belief. He looks good. York is not going to be able to resist him.

“Christ Wash. York isn’t going to know what to do with you. Those jeans already drive him nuts without all the added hipsterness. At least leave the bar at an attainable level for the rest of us mere mortals.” North’s eyes are raking over him, inspecting his outfit with an appreciative gaze.

“Says the Greek god.” Wash shoots back at him with a wink. “How cold do you think it is out there? Think I’ll be good without a jacket?”

“It’s supposed to stay pretty nice out today, so I imagine you’ll be good. It’d be a shame to cover that up anyway.” North slips his shoes on, following Wash out the door when he leaves.

* * *

 

They chatter quietly on the way to drop Wash off. He insists on making a pit stop and by the time North pulls up in front of the fitness center, Wash has fully explained his plans for the day. North grins encouragingly as Wash slips out of the car, shutting the door carefully behind him. North rolls down the window. “He should be done soon, but if you’re having a hard time finding him, he sometimes boxes to blow off steam. Love you Wash, see you later! Remember, between 6:30 and 7.”

“Love you too, North. I’ll make sure I have him home in time.” Wash watches the car drive off for a moment before entering the building. He’s never been in here before. But according to North, York frequented this place when they first started dating and still comes here when he needs to think. A quick scan of the entrance tells him he’s probably going to have to go further into the place to find York.

Approaching the front desk, Wash puts on his most charming smile. Hopefully it’ll help him get in without paying the fee. He isn’t here to work out, after all. He’s about to explain to the receptionist that he’s looking for a friend when a slap lands on his ass. Letting out an unmanly squeak of surprise, he wheels around and comes face to face with Connie. “Jesus Christ woman. Keep your hands off the merchandise.”

Connie chuckles lightly, “Don’t be so melodramatic Wash. Like I’d want your goods anyway. I haven’t seen you in a while. We should do something.”

“Tonight. We should do something tonight. Around 7. Please? It has to be tonight.” Wash gives her his patented puppy dog look.

“OK, if it has to be tonight then fine. You’re more dramatic than all my female friends. My place? We’ll do movies or something. Have some girl time.” Connie winks at him.

“Don’t be a bitch about it. I have my reasons. But yes. Your house at 7. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to find York.” Wash shifts, angling himself towards the front desk again when Connie interrupts.

“Of course you’re here for loverboy. He just hit the locker room after I beat his ass. He’ll probably be out in a few minutes. There’s only one exit, so if you chill here you won’t miss him. Careful though, he seemed kind of angry. Trouble in paradise?” Connie gives him a concerned once over. Her concern quickly turns to amusement when she takes him in. “Well, if there is… It won’t last long with you in that getup.”

Wash tips her a wink. “That’s the plan.”

“Well then, mission accomplished. You look completely fuckable.” She grins at him before walking away with a wave.

Wash waits for about 10 minutes before York appears from the locker room, hair damp and gym bag slung over his arm. He’s focused on his phone and doesn’t even notice Wash stepping in front of him until he’s almost run him over.

“Whoa. Sorry, I was so not paying attention.” York’s still staring distractedly at his phone and barely glances up before navigating around him. He gets a few steps before realizing who he just ran into and spinning around. The shock in his eyes slowly fades to want as he runs them over Wash’s body. They harden when they reach his face, however. His voice becomes demanding. “Wash? What are you doing here?”

Wash frowns. That wasn’t exactly the greeting he had been hoping for. He decides to ignore last night’s situation for now, instead letting a teasing note enter his voice. “What? Not happy to see me? I missed you this morning.”

York’s eyes narrow and he swivels his head to take in the rest of the entrance. “Is North here too? Are you guys teaming up on me to force my forgiveness?”

“Nope.” Wash pops the p. “Just me. And I’m here to take you on a date. Just us. For the whole day. I have tickets and everything. What do you say?”

York’s eyes widen in surprise. He’s never had a date with just Washington before. “Sounds interesting. You have my attention. But I’m still pissed at you, so I reserve the right to bail at any time.”

“Deal. But I bet you won’t.” Wash smiles at him, holding out his left hand. “Give me your keys, I’m driving.”

York hesitates before digging his keys out and placing them in Wash’s hand. Wash grins before grabbing York’s hand with his right and dragging him towards the parking lot. He takes a moment to press a chaste kiss to York’s lips before unlocking the truck and opening the passenger door for him. York raises an eyebrow before climbing in. Wash takes the opportunity to ogle his ass before closing the door and walking around to get in.

When they pull up outside their destination, York lets out a surprised laugh. “An art museum?”

“Yeah well…” Wash is suddenly unsure. He glances shyly up at York through his eyelashes. “The way you were talking about Pillack last night, you just seemed so passionate about it. So I thought it would be a good idea. As much as I don’t really get most art, I’d really like to listen to you explain it to me.”

York melts. Reaching across the cab of the truck, he pulls Wash in for a smoldering kiss. By the time they break apart, both are panting. “It’s Pollock, by the way. Not Pillack. And I promise I’ll help you understand art. Or at the very least, we’ll come up with some awesome interpretations.”

Wash grins, planting a quick second kiss on York’s lips before exiting the truck. York follows his lead, slipping down from the passenger side. Wash is waiting for him, hand extended. An offer that York gladly accepts.

Together they walk through the displays, York explaining who each artist was and what each painting was famous for. He talks about textures and pigments and brushstrokes. Wash listens intently, surprised at the amount of knowledge his boyfriend has on the subject. York usually abhors things that link him to his rich childhood. The fact that he would so openly embrace something classified as high society was intriguing. They save the abstract section for last.

They spend hours staring at blobs, splats, lines, and blurs. York explains how each artist is known for a different style or technique. They then take turns coming up with stories about what inspired each piece, pointing out different shapes and patterns. Wash comes up with a grand story about one of the pieces being inspired by a cat that coughed up a hairball on a drying canvas. By the time they reach the last piece, the fifteen minute warning comes up on the loudspeaker.

Wash jumps in surprise, pulling out his phone to check the time. 6:15. “Fuck. We have to go. You’re going to be late!”

Lacing his fingers through York’s again, Wash drags him towards the exit at a near sprint. York allows himself to be dragged along, completely confused. “Wash. Slow down a little. Where are we going?”

“Back to the truck. Hurry, don’t want to be late.” Wash unlocks the door and ushers him towards the passenger side again. Snapping on his seat belt, Wash revs the engine and backs out of the parking spot. Taking the back roads home, he avoids the traffic lights. By the time he pulls the truck into the driveway, the clock reads 6:40.

Shutting off the engine, Wash sighs in relief and grins across the seat at York. “Made it home with time to say goodbye.”

York stares at Wash in confusion. “Uhh Wash, what do you mean goodbye? You live here too, remember?”

“Yeah, but our date is over. We both have other plans for tonight. But that doesn’t mean I have to miss out on the goodbye kiss.” Wash scoots down the bench seat to wrap his arms around York’s neck.

York stiffens in response to the embrace. “I am confused.”

“Shhh, I promise everything is going to make sense in a few minutes. But I really want a kiss or two before I go. Please?” Wash tugs him closer eyes combing across York’s face before barely brushing a kiss to his lips.

York gives in, surging forward to capture Wash’s lips in a passionate kiss. He pours all the emotions their date drums up inside of him into this one kiss. Wash moans into his mouth, hands suddenly everywhere, sliding up York’s neck to grip his hair and tug gently before smoothing down his chest and ghosting along his sides. Minutes pass, and suddenly Wash is straddling York’s lap. He’s kissing York like he wants to steal every molecule of oxygen from his lungs. He breaks away with a frustrated groan when his phone chimes.

“Times up.” He removes himself from York’s lap, slipping back onto the seat. “I had an amazing time today, love. But as much as I’d like to keep you to myself for longer, there is someone waiting for you inside. And I’d hate to ruin his plans for you.”

Recognition spreads across York’s face. “North. North has a date planned for me.”

“Yes he does. We thought it would be a good idea to each have some alone time with you. Just to express how much we appreciate you.” Wash starts ushering York out of the truck. “Go, have fun. I love you, York.”

York leans into the truck to steal one last kiss. “I love you too, Wash.”


End file.
